


White picket fence and a wolf

by Hermit9



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Bruce gets to ride him, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Probably gleefully ignores any and all canon, Thor Ragnarok Divergent, country living, hulk gets a pet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermit9/pseuds/Hermit9
Summary: Bruce Banner moves to Vermont, gets himself a white picket fence, and has a problem that only Pinterest can solve.





	White picket fence and a wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tafferling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/gifts).



> For the lovely Tafferling. Beta by MaverickWerewolf

Moving back to New York had been an alienating experience. Which, considering he’d just jumped through several alien worlds, was saying a lot. Stark Tower had been renovated and cleaned up, the decoration expensive and tasteful. There were probably teams dedicated to finding pillows and rugs. It was also sterile and soulless, like a lab without the coffee stains on the tables. It made Bruce uneasy. If the tower was a lab, who was running the experiment?

The city itself was different. It was in the air, in the invisible thread of tension that coursed through everyone, taut and waiting to snap. Waiting for the next crisis, the next invasion or cancerous gang war. It was in the scars on the buildings, the patchwork masonry work of slightly mismatched bricks and brand new buildings. When he walked he could see imprints of the Other Guy’s hands, the indents of the Chitauri grappling hooks, the burn marks of Tony’s repulsor. He could feel the white pain, pain, pain, pain, of the alien weapons as they concentrated fire on him. He also saw the Other Guy’s face looking back at him, from school boys’ backpacks and masks and posters. It was a bit like stepping out of his own skin, but without the usual wardrobe cost. At least the kids looked happy.

Besides, the real estate market there was murder, pure and simple. Even with money pouring in from the US army in a stream of “opps, sorry we shot at you” checks. Living space wasn’t an issue since he could claim a floor at the tower. It was the lack of a yard, that sent him searching, away from the city and, eventually, away from the entire state. All the way out to Vermont.

It had taken some searching, and a lot of magical law stuff from the Stark Industries law department, but Bruce was happy with the new place. He missed the crowds, but some compromises had to be made. He could play white noise filters and recordings to recreate the Favela and the Slums, the press of Humanity close by but yet separate from him. At arm's length, where it was safe. The new property had acres, with some fields and woods, a guest house that could be a lab, bee hives and fruit trees. It was also only a hitch and a jump and a quick hike from being so far north it wasn’t in the USA anymore, which suited him just fine. Extra-territorial and extradition and jurisdiction issues had worked in his favour in the past and just because he was suddenly popular didn’t make the urge to run go away. All the buildings were one level, with the highest ceilings possible, and polished concrete floors. He didn’t know how much Tony had paid for it all. He wouldn’t get a straight answer anyway. 

The first thing he did was paint the fence, blinding white. The second was to get Tony to install actual security, bargaining to trade an afternoon with him in the workshop every month. Not that working with Tony wasn’t fun. It was challenging and they pushed each other. It was exhausting. They would jump and leap ahead, and neither of them tended to be particularly good at the ethical question side of things. 

The second thing he did was to let the wolf run. Fenris was shy in the beginning, sticking close to the house, flinching at storms and any metal on metal sounds. He sought comfort and company and would snarl and have mood swings. It dawned on Bruce, probably late with the genius level intellect and all, that Fenris was acting like a traumatized dog. Or a retired working K-9 that had to unlearn a lot of aggression.

Fenris also loved playing fetch. At least as long as the item to be fetched was the approximate size of a human limb. Which were really easy for the Other Guy to throw. Much, much to the Other Guy’s delight. Which presented a problem, as Bruce could feel him at the back of his mind, clawing to be allowed to come out. 

The answer came, out of all places, from Pinterest. Bruce painted a wall in the dining room with chalkboard primer and left big sidewalk chalks next to it. He drew a calendar on it with shiny stain resistant paint. It was clean, simple, logical. Easy to comprehend, even for a child or child-like being. 

***

Hulk liked the new house. He missed the hot tub, and he didn’t have fights. But it was big and he didn’t hit his head. There was grass outside and trees. And the Puppy. The Puppy was fun and soft. He would run when Hulk threw branches and bring them back. He would walk with Hulk, and lean against him. Hulk was happy he had kept the Puppy when they had fallen off the waterfall. 

The Little Man had left ways for Hulk to say when he wanted to go walk with the Puppy. He would put color on the squares and the Little Man would know so Hulk didn’t have to fight to come and play. There was colors too that Hulk knew meant the day was taken. There was Work and Friends. The first one was boring. He didn’t mind the second. 

***

Winter rolled around and it wasn’t playing. Snow-laden winds battered the house and whistled through the trees, plucking at Bruce’s clothes and trying to rip the scarf from his face. He slipped on some hidden ice, unable to catch himself without dropping the tar paper he was carrying, which would have been a waste. He hadn’t expected winter this soon, or for it to be this cold. He braced for an impact that never came. 

Instead, there was a warm breath and the padding of fur and growling whine of a concerned wolf. Bruce looked over his shoulder and met Fenris’ eye, seeing himself reflected in the pupil the size of a dinner plate. 

“Thanks for the assist,” he said. The wind stole the words from his mouth, but Fenris’ ears twitched in understanding. “I need to get to the hives and try to wrap them so they don’t die. Wanna help?”

Fenris took a step back and shook the snow from his fur. Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of that, until the wolf lied down, as low and flat as he could. When Bruce didn’t move he yipped, a sound that would have been a thundering bark from any other creature, then looked over his shoulder and back at Bruce with what looked like an expectant expression. 

“You sure about this?” Bruce asked. When Fenris sighed and plopped his head down to the ground Bruce smiled. “Sure, ok. Let’s do this.”

It took him three tries to find a way to climb up, grabbing the thick black fur. Fenris nudged him up with his nose on the last attempt and waited patiently for Bruce to settle down. Then he took off, running. 

Bruce felt a bit like being chained to a rocket, if rockets came padded with fur that tickled the exposed skin of his cheeks. Fenris was sure-footed, and fast, zig-zagging through the trees, tongue lolling to the side, bright pink against the white of the ground and the black of his fur. They were across the field by the hives before Bruce could get comfortable with the loping gait of it all. Fenris dropped back down on his stomach to allow him to side off. The wolf followed him around, sniffing gently at the hives to warm them as Bruce worked. 

It was probably the safest Bruce had felt, since his accident. Wrapping softly humming boxes in Tar paper, warmed by a mythological-technically-zombie wolf. He wasn’t being hunted. His neighbours might even forgive him at some point for the howling at the full moon. Fenris sighed and curled up, blocking the wind. Bruce made a mental note to find what he would like as a treat.


End file.
